This morning, after I ran over to my friend's house to feed her three dogs and five cats, I woke up my boyfriend so that we could open our gifts. And then I poured a nice large shot of liqueur into my coffee. Boyfriend wondered aloud why I was hitting the booze so early; I reminded him that it was necessary because I was getting ready to open gifts from my family.
Now, before I go any further, let me state unequivocally that (a) I love my family dearly, and (b) I do appreciate their generosity and thoughtfulness. It's just that certain generous and thoughtful members of my family have an unerring instinct for buying me wholly inappropriate gifts.
Well, it's not an instinct, actually; it's a deliberate mindset, which is as wrongheaded as it is well-intentioned. Some of my family members just hope against hope that someday I will come to my senses and be a "normal" woman; meaning, a fully domesticated, demure, Christian wife. Thus, I received this morning:
(a) a crock-pot and a cookbook for it, despite the fact that I rarely cook and there's only two of us;
(b) a cake tester, from someone who knows that I've never baked a cake in my life;
(c) a religious Christmas tree ornament, from someone who knows that I don't consider myself Christian and I never put up a Christmas tree;
(d) Christmas china, from someone who knows that I don't own a china cabinet and don't even use my wedding china half the time, much less special china with Christmas trees all over it...
....and so forth. It's not like I won't ever use the Crockpot, but I find myself giggling over these gifts (and the more liqueur I put in my coffee, the more I giggle). These aren't gifts from strangers; they're from people who have known me all my life, and despite the fact that I've shown little sign of domesticity or Christianity in my 35 years, they're still trying to sneak it in there. Thank goodness they don't know how different my lifestyle really is from theirs.
The boyfriend and I have been having the best giggle over this gift. I got a version in light purple, and let me just say that it is the least erotic item of women's clothing that I've ever seen. Given that boyfriend and I are still in the honeymoon stage, I won't wear it much around him, not least because he has been mercilessly calling it a "onesie" all morning.
Granted, it's not supposed to be lingerie (every year, I ask for Victoria's Secret gift certificates, hoping they'll get the hint), but in some ways it doesn't even do what it's supposed to do. It's supposed to keep you warm by being "a blanket you wear", and it's heavy enough that you wouldn't wear anything under it. But the only zipper is at the top, which begs the question, "How do you go to the bathroom in this thing?"
The answer is, "You don't." At least, not without zipping it down and pulling it almost completely off, and given that the bathroom is one of the colder rooms in my house, an article of clothing that I have to almost entirely remove before I can take a whiz is not one I'm going to be wearing often.
But right now, the cat is snuggled up in my "onesie," the boyfriend is happily mulling over his new Final Fantasy game manual, and the liqueur is kicking in. I hope you're all having as happy and relaxed a day as I am.
(And if you're bored of opening presents and want a lot of stuff to read, the Christmas Carnival of the Vanities is up. Go and enjoy.)Posted by kswygert at December 25, 2003 12:13 PM